


Tomorrow will be special, yesterday was not

by lemonenergy



Category: Kamen Rider Gaim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wrestling, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 07:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonenergy/pseuds/lemonenergy
Summary: Even here, the people watch him with hearts bared, ready for the taking.  Even here, he won’t look directly at their hearts, and tells himself it’s for their own good.  The romance of leather and masks and violence is the same regardless of circumstances.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> 1) This is my first long fic in years  
> 2) This is actually a Trauma Gacha AU. Trauma Gacha is a doujin where Ryouma creates a machine to bounce between worlds to find a place where he and Takatora can be happy, ranging from them working in the fishing industry to being a king and his advisor. As I can’t distribute scans and maybe six people in the English fanbase have read it, the audience for the full context of this fic is quite small. But even if you haven’t read it, it’s still mostly enjoyable!  
> 3) Welcome to the pit. 
> 
> Also, CaptainSpace/SunshineMoon is my editor for this, so I’d like to thank her very much for her work!!

KACHANK.  
  
This world wouldn’t do either.  It had lured Ryouma in with its radiance, but things had ended up playing out the same way they always did.  No matter what, Takatora refused to accept that his rightful position was to rule, and kept sacrificing everything he could for the sake of others, even Ryouma’s own feelings.  Ryouma had lost count of how many times that song and dance had played out by now.  Each new world would twist the knife a little more, his bitterness deepening, but the time for giving up had long passed.  Out of all the infinite possibilities out there, there had to be some situation where they were happy.  
  
But what, exactly, would that be?  Ryouma mulls over the question as they drift through the void, careful of his grip on the sleeping Takatora.  It wasn’t his style, but maybe a less radiant world would be a better choice.  Lower stakes meant any difference in ideology would be much less severe.  Maybe that could even be worked through, instead of marking them as fundamentally different people.  Maybe he could make Takatora see his rightful place.  It would probably mean living a much more ordinary life and giving up on anything resembling his research, but he could sacrifice that for the sake of their happiness together.  That was all that mattered.  
  
They drift past worlds so radiant they’re almost blinding and Ryouma is still tempted.  Sure, it’s risky, but Takatora would be so grand in there.  Maybe even an actual king, with Ryouma as his loyal advisor?!  Ah, it sounds fantastic!  A world where Takatora already knows his place!  But as Ryouma debates, it becomes too late to turn back and enter it.  It’s fine.  It was so brilliant and dazzling, he can go back and find it again, surely, if wherever they end up this time doesn’t work out.    
  
As Ryouma looks down to adjust his grip on Takatora, he notices a faint glimmer.  Whatever world this is, it’s certainly small.  One of the smallest he’d seen, even, outclassed only by the world they had fell into where they worked in the fishing industry.  But there’s something inviting about its faint shine – a suggestion that even though it’ll be a quiet life, it’ll still be fun.  It’s better than nothing.  He’ll try anything at this point.  Ryouma closes his eyes and lets himself and Takatora fall in, hoping that this time will be the last time.


	2. Flowering Night

“… Ryouma?”  
A hand on his shoulder and a voice that was unmistakably Takatora’s.  He must have dozed off.  Ryouma groans and cracks his neck, opening his eyes.  Takatora’s remarkably close, and his face has that familiar look of vaguely sad concern.

“Are you okay, Ryouma?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I was only gone for a few minutes and you fell asleep.  Are you okay to go out?”

“Of course.”  Ryouma can feel how stupid he looks, mild surprise and the remnants of his sleep mixing on his face “I’ll just be hanging out outside the ring.”  
  
Takatora doesn’t respond, but by his expression he seems begrudgingly satisfied, and he walks away to dig through his bag.  Ryouma had already changed out of his gear before he fell asleep, so he just lounges on the bench and eyes the monitor in the corner of the room.  It’s yet another infighting tag match between the Mighty Brothers kids, and he can’t help but scoff.  Sure, drama was fun, but they were at the point where it felt almost pointless to call them a stable at all.  Apparently, though, that was what made them so popular with women, and the higher ups sure as hell weren’t going to abandon any plotline that put people in seats, so here they were again.  If nothing else, they all had phenomenal gear, and it was never a bad thing to get to admire someone else’s skills.  He’d been meaning to ask who had designed it, but somehow it always slipped his mind.  
  
“They’re energetic, aren’t they?” Takatora muses just loud enough for Ryouma to hear after a particularly loud snarl from one of them.  Dangerous Zombie – Ryouma couldn’t remember his real name, because they never interacted, but that stupid moniker really stuck in your head – was so all over the place he couldn’t tell if he was a great wrestler or a terrible one.  

“That’s putting it nicely.”

“They’re still new.”  Takatora seems to have finally found his mask, and he walks back over to Ryouma with it in hand.  “Give them time to grow into their styles.”

“You always have so much faith in everyone.”    
  
Takatora doesn’t need to say what he’s after, and Ryouma unceremoniously forces himself to his feet.  It’s not that Takatora can’t put his mask on, it’s just that it’s preferable for Ryouma to do it.  The laces were done up tighter this way, and Ryouma was proud enough to take any chance he could get to admire his own handiwork.  Of course, even the back of Takatora’s mask is beautiful.  Even now, the Zangetsu gear is Ryouma’s magnum opus.  A pinnacle in fabric choice and texturing, it was no wonder Takatora could captivate audiences even with his face hidden.  They didn’t need a beautiful face of the promotion to lure in new viewers when Takatora’s mask far outclassed any beauty a person could possess.  It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Takatora’s image – that Genesis’ image – was entirely Ryouma’s creation.    
  
Ryouma quickly laces the mask like it’s second nature, paying more attention to the fabric than the lace, and gently tucks stray flicks of hair back underneath it.  Takatora’s back is beautiful, too, but that’s a little more personal.  Ryouma lets himself space out a little, and his hands slowly drift down Takatora’s neck and onto his back, his right hand lingering over the vivid orange spandex covering Takatora’s right shoulder, tracing the edge where it meets his skin.  It had been years since that injury, and yet the guilt still lingered at the back of his mind.  It certainly added a unique flair to the Zangetsu gear, but it also served as a permanent reminder.  His fingers press into the spandex a little harder, trying to find the edges of Takatora’s scar, admiration and guilt mixing in his mind.  
  
“Ryouma.”  Takatora’s voice snaps Ryouma back to reality.  “Time and place.”  
“Of course.”  
“Honestly.” Even if Takatora’s face is hidden, the amusement in his voice is obvious enough to tell that he doesn’t really mind.  
  
The match is still going as they wait in the hallway, though Takatora ignores the distant noise so he can bring himself into focus.Everyone waiting here is quiet, but someone is visibly more anxious than the rest.A new ring doctor – was it Kagami? – had been brought in a few months ago, and even though Ryouma had never actually spoken to him, he was definitely an easy enough figure to remember.It wasn’t that everyone working for Genesis was unattractive – he was standing right next to Takatora, after all – but Kagami was a league above everyone else. Someone like him certainly looked like he’d fit in better among the lights of a fashion photoshoot, rather than slinking around musty corridors to patch up too-enthusiastic meatheads.But here he was, making a reputation on his looks alone, watching the last few minutes of the tag match with his brows furrowed.  
  
“You a Mighty Brothers fan, Dr Kagami?”Ryouma asks, and the young doctor suddenly stiffens, so focused on the match that Ryouma had startled him.He turns to stare at Ryouma for a few seconds, looking concerned and vaguely irritated, before huffing and turning his attention back to the screen.A total ice queen, but maybe that was for the best.No sooner had Dr Kagami turned his attention back to the screen than the match ended, with the pink one whose name Ryouma could not recall taking the pin.Dr Kagami quite noticeably sighs with relief, before realising Ryouma was still watching him and hurrying away, a scowl on his face.The relaxed silence among everyone backstage is unshaken as he leaves, and Ryouma slumps against the wall to wait out the inevitable postmatch shitfight.  
  
It takes less time than usual, surprisingly, and before long a pair of neon-clad rookies are limping past back towards the locker rooms, their forced gait switching back closer to walking once they were certain they were away from the eyes of the audience.Takatora is already in place, and Ryouma takes his place behind him as the main event is announced.Takatora’s theme begins and swells, and he steps out of the hallway and into the arena filled with the adoring crowd.  
  
Ah, delirium!  ... Is what Ryouma wants to think, but in truth, Kourakuen had lost its lustre to him a little over the years.It was an important stage, for sure, and certainly outclassed the tiny halls and school gyms their shows were usually in, but having never had an important match here, he didn’t have the same emotional attachment.But that was fine.This was the place that enshrined many of Takatora’s victories, and that was all it needed to be.He cuts past Takatora, climbing up and around the corner of the ring in one smooth, long practiced motion, sitting on the turnbuckle and unfolding Zangetsu’s flag.He catches a group of young women with their phones out in the corner of his eye as Takatora - as Zangetsu - enters the ring, and tilts his head a little closer to them, lets his expression become a little more smug.Sure, they were probably after photos of Zangetsu, but he can still have a little fun in the background.  
  
Zangetsu settles in the ring and begins stretching, and Ryouma has a few seconds of relative silence to enjoy before Kazuraba’s obnoxiously energetic theme kicks in.High energy from the beginning seemed about right, but even if the image fit it didn’t make him any less tiresome to deal with.Not that they had fought much, and not that he was insufferable backstage or anything of the sort – it was just too much all at once. Like his entrance.Bursting into the hall, cheers from an adoring crowd, and running around at a breakneck pace trying to high five everybody he could.He was the platonic ideal of a young babyface, capturing hearts with love and energy.Ryouma motions Zangetsu over and mouths something to him, though he doesn’t actually say anything, creating a moment for the cameras.  Zangetsu does scoff in return, however, before facing back out to the ring to watch Kazuraba leap over the ropes.It’s brilliant.It’s exhausting.  
  
The cheers of the audience are a distant roar as the announcer calls their names.  Ryouma would usually be focusing to see who got the better reception – naturally, it was Zangetsu, every time – but there’s something else new and exciting in the hall tonight.  He hadn’t noticed through Kazuraba’s initial burst of energy, but there was another young babyface here too, this one much quieter, his nerves showing clearly in his face and in his slouch.  Ryouma couldn’t remember his work name, but that was fine, because his shoot name was what made him so interesting to begin with.  Mitsuzane Kureshima – Takatora’s little brother.  He had debuted just the other week, but Ryouma hadn’t realised that he’d be siding with Kazuraba, and so soon, too.  Standing against the legacy of his brother already… there was something clouding his heart that innocent look belied.  
  
Ryouma is brought back to reality by the already irritated referee shooing him off the turnbuckle.  He quietly complies, hopping off and sliding out underneath the ropes to settle on his knees in the corner.  He’d surely regret this by the time the match was over, but any Zangetsu match is best viewed as closely as possible, so any knee pain must surely be worth it.  Mitsuzane seemed to have had the same idea, settling in the opposite corner, and Ryouma catches his eye and flashes a smirk.  Mitsuzane seems genuinely surprised, and quickly looks away.  He’d really have to bring those nerves under control quickly if he wanted to keep up with someone like Kazuraba.  
  
The bell sounds, and the audience immediately launches into competing chants.  Kazuraba slowly circles the ring, motioning for people to cheer louder and louder, Zangetsu steadily following him.  Once the cheers for him overtake the cheers for Zangetsu, he suddenly turns, hand outstretched, an excited grin on his face.  They seem momentarily frozen in time before Zangetsu responds, unflinchingly grabbing Kazuraba’s hand.  That really seems to put Kazuraba in a good mood – not that his spirits needed further lifting – and he gives a firm shake.  They both break the hold at once, retreating to their corners to refocus, and the match begins anew.  
  
It’s Zangetsu who makes the stronger approach, forcing Kazuraba out of his corner, as they begin to circle and make overtures towards each other’s hands.  Zangetsu catches Kazuraba’s and tries to make a grab for his head, but Kazuraba breaks away, darting for the corner.  They resume their circling just as quickly, with Zangetsu going for Kazuraba’s head again, catching him this time and immediately putting on a headlock, dragging Kazuraba forwards onto all fours and putting his own back to the ropes.  Zangetsu tries to adjust his grip to something more decisive but Kazuraba resists, agile as ever, arms and head twisting out of the way time and again before Zangetsu can get a proper hold.  They rapidly cycle through poses like they’ve practiced this a million times, Zangetsu trying for new holds while keeping Kazuraba on his hands and knees and Kazuraba slipping free almost immediately.  
  
After what feels like an eternity – in actuality, only about 15 seconds – Kazuraba manages to flip onto his back while breaking from another of Zangetsu’s hold attempts, shoving Zangetsu off and quickly getting to his feet.  Zangetsu backs off and they slowly circle each other once again, competing chants rising in the audience.  They enter the hands and headlock routine for a third time, but Kazuraba resists, and Zangetsu ends up pushing him against the ropes, unable to get him on the ground.  They stay upright this time, Zangetsu pushing Kazuraba’s arms behind the top rope, and they stare at each other before Zangetsu slowly backs away – a clean break, as always.  
  
Kazuraba collects himself as Zangetsu silently watches, and they circle and approach each other once again.  This time it’s Kazuraba on the offence, trying to push against Zangetsu’s chest and grab his head.  Zangetsu resists, swiping Kazuraba’s hands out of the way, but before long he ends up against the ropes himself.  Zangetsu keeps his hands raised in submission while Kazuraba lingers, seemingly hesitant about breaking.  Right as he finally does, his leg swings up at unbelievable speed to kick at Zangetsu’s head.  A step ahead as usual, Zangetsu ducks under it by a matter of millimetres.  Kazuraba backs away, looking pleased with himself, but Zangetsu’s body language suggests he’s less than impressed by the surprise attack.  
  
After collecting themselves, it seems like it’ll slide into the circle and grab routine once again, but Zangetsu defies the pattern by quickly grabbing Kazuraba and bringing him to his hands and knees.  The foundation of gentle tension had been laid, but that was enough.  It couldn’t be built forever, and so now the true spirit of Zangetsu matches sparks to life.  It takes several attempts to break this position, but one finally sticks and Kazuraba ends up on his back again, Zangetsu laying out to the side and keeping him in a headlock.  Ryouma almost laments that from this angle he can only see Zangetsu’s back, but bringing more base feelings into consideration of Zangetsu’s eternal beauty, the art that is his fighting, is absolutely not allowed.  
  
 In one swift movement, Zangetsu brings up one of his legs to switch to a triangle lock, using the hand he’s not supporting himself with to try and restrain Kazuraba’s wrists.  Kazuraba freezes in surprise for a moment before he begins kicking out, using the slight lift to his hips each time to shuffle around and move towards the rope.  Zangetsu tries to adjust his hold to restrain him, but he can’t put up enough resistance – Kazuraba catches his foot on the bottom rope, and the referee motions for Zangetsu to end the hold; he does so, letting his knee linger on Kazuraba’s chest on the way up.  
  
This first act of dominance is a statement of intent: Zangetsu starts as he means to go on.  Kazuraba’s baggy gear hides powerful legs and the strongest kicks in the promotion, but he barely gets a chance to use them.  At every turn, Zangetsu counters, catching Kazuraba in some new and unexpected hold, twisting his joints gently but violently, beautifully but brutally.  Kazuraba is forced to his knees again and again, his arms twisted behind his back, joints manipulated, choked in endless ways.  It’s not as if the match is a one-sided killing – Kazuraba knocks down and pins Zangetsu many times – but all of Kazuraba’s victories are small and fleeting.

  
Time distorts the longer Ryouma watches in silence.  It feels like forever and like no time at all, and the endless cheering of the audience is distant.  Each hold transitions seamlessly into the next, Zangetsu’s absolute control of the spirit and flow of the match creating a near hypnotic experience.  There are no dramatic climaxes in a conventional sense when he controls the match this way – there can’t ever be one, as Zangetsu is so devoted to his technical pursuits he doesn’t know any strong finishers.  His opponents will submit, or he will lose.  Such is the Zangetsu experience.  
  
Zangetsu slips past a knee strike from Kazuraba, moving up onto his back and starting an octopus hold so quickly that Ryouma, even with his eyes never leaving Zangetsu, barely catches it.  Kazuraba instantly moves to break free, but lifts his free arm up high enough for Zangetsu to catch it, pulling both of Kazuraba’s arms up and behind his back.  With Kazuraba’s balance in jeopardy, Zangetsu unhooks his leg from around Kazuraba’s shoulder and begins to kick down on the back of his head.  In this position, there’s hardly any strength behind it, but the persistence is enough to throw off Kazuraba’s balance entirely and bring him to his knees, face held in place against the mat.  
  
There’s nothing particularly flashy about this, but anybody paying attention would know that it’s over for Kazuraba.  Only one of his legs is free, but there’s nothing he can do with it now.  Zangetsu keeps his foot firmly planted on the back of Kazuraba’s head, ignoring his struggling and screaming, and wrenches Kazuraba’s arms further backwards.  Even if he wanted to tap out, he couldn’t – not that he ever wants to.  Kazuraba’s burning spirit extends to defiance, and he adamantly shakes his head at the referee’s suggestions to end the match, earning more stomps to his head from Zangetsu.    
  
A defiant spirit means nothing if you can’t do anything about it, of course, and despite Kazuraba’s protests, the referee calls the match in Zangetsu’s favour.The audience cheers – they always cheer – as Zangetsu gently untangles himself from Kazuraba, a trainee quickly filling the space where Zangetsu once was to offer Kazuraba an icepack.Zangetsu seems to have no interest in saying anything postmatch, and quietly steps out of the ring after the referee raises Zangetsu’s hand to properly declare him the victor.Ryouma hurriedly gets to his feet to follow him out, stumbling as the knee pain hits all at once.Kazuraba’s still lying in the ring as they leave.  
  
There’s one more round of acting before they can finally relax, of course, as the two of them walk past the sponsor wall, lingering briefly to give a promo.

“Nothing to say tonight, boss?”

“No. I don’t need to repeat myself to him. If he wants to focus on frivolous things and languish where he is, that’s his call.”

Takatora only delivers a short statement before continuing walking on, and Ryouma looks at the cameras and shrugs before following.Ryouma only ever heard that stern tone in Takatora’s promos, and it never got less strange to hear him speak so harshly – harshly for him, anyway.  
  
Returning to the locker room might as well be like returning home.Ryouma immediately slouches on a bench, even though he’s not the one who should be tired.That doesn’t matter, though, because just being here again feels so good.

“Hey,” Takatora speaks as he takes off his mask, his voice immediately lighter than before “Did you want to go out tonight? Since I won that match.”

“Mmm, Takatora, wasn’t the rule only after successful title defences? Do you have a problem?”Ryouma laughs to himself at his own bad joke, lazily watching Takatora.

“I haven’t held a title in months.Minato hasn’t, either.I think it’s been long enough we can ignore the rules.”

“Ooh, the ace is ignoring the rules.Is this your heel turn?Are we entering a dark new era of Genesis?”

“And you wonder why you don’t get a say in the storyline.”Takatora tosses his mask at his bag, shaking his head to free up his hair again.Even like this, he’s beautiful.    
  
Takatora collects a towel and passes by Ryouma on his way to the showers, leaning down so their faces meet.

“Ask Minato if she wants to come, okay?”  
He quickly kisses Ryouma, the mark of affection of a longterm couple, but it’s a little gross.Even from that, Ryouma can taste his sweat.

“Of course, boss.”


End file.
